Hands Off My Hoagie!

Can someone please tell me why the employees at the White Bridge Jersey Mikes do not wear gloves? Why does the guy who stands over the counter, writing my order with a pen that inevitably has been in someone’s mouth, then reach into the cooler and handle the turkey that is going on my sandwich? No gloves, no hand washing, nothing! He tosses the meat onto the slicer, catching the shreds of turkey in his bare hand before placing them on my bread that he already man handled in the same process. I stand there trying not to think about where his hands have been, wondering if I can muster up the appetite to even eat now. With his job done, he slides my sandwich on to the next person in line, a young girl who bare-handedly grabs my sandwich and starts tossing on tomatoes and lettuce. “What else?” she asks. How about some mustard and sanitizing gel? After wrapping up my germ-laden sandwich, she turns and operates the register, touching money, along with the hands of every previous owner of those bills and coins. I pick up my diseased meal and watch as the process is repeated with no sink visits and no trips to the glove box sitting in obvious sight behind the counter. Why didn’t I eat at home?